


Bloodless God

by Hitsugi_Zirkus



Category: Togainu no Chi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Introspection, M/M, Obsession, Shiki's Bad End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9073030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/pseuds/Hitsugi_Zirkus
Summary: The most infuriating thing to Shiki was not that he couldn’t simply shatter Nano’s being like a mirror, but that Shiki couldn’t even instill in him the same fear that had struck Shiki down and caged him for years. He couldn’t so much as break Nano’s mind, much less slice open his flesh to get to it.And what Shiki had sought greater than simply killing Nano...was splattering his pale image in his own red spill of tainted blood, as proof that he was nothing more than a human, that color could stain him, that he wasn’t untouchable.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my last fic of the year, guys! Once more, it is dedicated to my dearest Kuma as a belated birthday present. Another year has passed, and I’m still so happy to be friends with you and work with you as a creative partner. I hope that this year gives you much happiness, gays, and growth. Congrats on another year of your life ^_^
> 
> This is my first TnC fic and since Kuma was the one to nudge me to get into it, it goes without saying that this is another reason this fic is for you~ I combined two components you enjoy for this fic and that is Shiki/Nano interactions and dictator!Shiki BE. Enjoy my bro, it was very fun to write for this universe B))) I don't know if my TnC knives are quite potent yet for you but I will continue to sharpen them.

Color could not touch him.  


Among the corpses, in the middle of the flame, even the burning splash of orange could not tinge the soldier’s skin. Only the flecks of dripping crimson blood painted the ghost -- or was he a demon? The edges of his form were hazy, the shade of his hair and eyes washed out, like an old photograph lost in ash -- yes, definitely a ghost. 

Without emotion, without any immediacy, the eyes of that ghost pierced through the thick skin of Shiki’s flesh, tearing him open so precisely like a needle’s stab to his core to seize his heart. 

The nothingness that pervaded his senses and took root in his brain wasn’t an abysmal black, but pure white -- bright and frightening  _ white  _ that blinded Shiki and rendered him immobile. From those eyes, he could not hide. Those eyes illuminated everything, unearthing even the needlepoint of fear that Shiki hadn’t realized existed in his heart.

Fear that cracked open his bones. Terror that nailed his feet to the earth, soaked with the wispy white souls of the deceased. The world gave out under Shiki’s feet, having him fall in slow motion -- and when time sped up again, he was running closer to that ghost of a man, sword raised, lips parted in a silent howl.

The shining white of his blade sliced the very air, and in less time than it took Shiki to blink, its strike had been halted. The man had caught the blade with such frightening solidness that there was no mistake that his existence was somehow real and tangible despite his frail appearance. 

He did not blink, did not so much as breathe from the effort of catching Shiki’s sword without his fingers being sliced off. Shiki got the impression that the man could’ve dodged if he really wanted to, but had decided instead to demonstrate his power to Shiki firsthand, like a predator playing with its prey. 

Shiki was going to be swallowed alive.

The man’s bloodless lips parted, eyes continuing to bore into Shiki’s with uncomfortable penetration. 

“ _ A n o t h e r  f o o l _ …”

His voice was pure cold white mist that could barely touch Shiki, as if his words were an illusion.

Shiki didn’t die that night. For some odd reason, he alone was spared, a shadow among the corpses of his fellow soldiers -- not that they had any personal value to him. Shiki had taught himself long ago to strip himself of any kind of unbeneficial relationship. If need be, he’d strike down his own flesh and blood. Everything was to raise his own power.

Encountering that monster of a man, seeing the madness in those empty eyes, it was the crack of a whip against Shiki’s back, giving him a singular purpose to that insatiable hunger in increasing his power.

So that he would never again be a dog cowering in the shadows, Shiki would eliminate this weakness, this fear. 

At night, the image of that pale soldier burned behind his closed eyes. In bursts of flame, he half-expected to glance of those soulless eyes. It was a sick, traumatizing obsession. But Shiki couldn’t afford to let anything chain him down, no matter how much the iron dug into his skin. 

This plague never showed on the outside of Shiki’s appearance -- it did not diminish the ruthless gleam of his eyes, it did not hinder the precise agility and strike of his sword dance. His name spread in the underworld, and in a few short years he was the shadow king of a bloody game in Toshima.

He encountered the ghost soldier again at that time. Or rather, he’d been approached. Shiki had been in the middle of stalking through the streets when a chill crawled up between his shoulder blades and seemed to caress the back of his neck.

When he turned, his blade was pointed right between washed-out eyes faintly rimmed in a purple gleam. Shiki’s heart froze, his ribcage threatening to close in on itself and snap. 

His first swing was dodged. 

So was the second. 

Again and again in a frenzy in which neither party seemed to breathe burst a violent dance. The man stepped forward but never struck Shiki, as if taunting him. The back and forth went on until Shiki lunged his sword out straight for the man’s pale neck, but it was caught in one bare hand. The gesture was horribly reminiescent of  _ that burning night _ .

They stared at one another. Blood slowly dribbled down from the man’s hand. 

“Reflections,” that same wispy voice brushed over Shiki’s pulse, “that cast each other’s image endlessly until there is but black. Repeated events eventually go unnoticed by blind eyes the same way. It’s why man will never evolve.” 

Shiki yanked his sword back. The man let it go without resistance, his injured hand falling limply to his side. The pain didn’t appear to register to him. 

With his other hand, he held up a suitcase before Shiki could try attacking again. 

“Nano,” the man said when Shiki just stared blankly. “You are Shiki.”

Oh. Names. What a meaningless but peculiar introduction. He didn’t lower his sword. Finding himself interested by the curious distraction Shiki nodded to the suitcase, regarding it with suspicion. 

“What’s that?”

“Vials,” Nano replied. “Of my blood.” 

Shiki glanced at the suitcase again. While he couldn’t trust Nano in the least, nothing in his voice dictated anything false. If anything, his words and eyes gave way to nothing less than absolution. Shiki didn’t want to be bent to the reality of those misty words, but all the same, he found himself pondering them. 

“Why are you offering it out?”

“Because the silver thread that keeps this game of madness suspended is me. I am the reason Vischio has establishment. I am the purpose you have and why you have not grown bored of Toshima yet.” Nano’s expression didn’t change as he spoke, and his whole body stood frozen in the act of holding the case out to Shiki. But in his eyes, that purple gleam grew. “I have given you many opportunities to fine tune the power you so foolishly desire.” 

Shiki’s brow furrowed. It irritated him more than he thought how Nano spoke like he was pulling strings Shiki hadn’t even known were attached to him. It made him feel dirty, like cobwebs were clinging thickly to his skin under the leather of his clothes. 

“Talk properly or I’ll slice that tongue of yours off.” 

Nano lowered his eyes, but the gesture didn’t strike Shiki as directly submissive. “It’s Line.” 

“Your blood is Line?” When Shiki turned over the facts himself, he couldn’t see it being impossible. Vischio was responsible to distributing out Line, and to the Igura players that stupidly took it, a change would come over them in their behavior and even their appearance. Shiki never questioned where the drug came from or what it was made of. He might’ve heard whispers here and there from Arbitro about a project and blood experiments on children, but Shiki had tuned out the disgusting churn of the underworld’s talk years ago. Besides, if the drug gave him some bold opponents for once, he wasn’t going to ask any questions. So Arbitro’s prattling had some worth this time.

Blood as a drug. How warped. How monsterous. Tainted blood was in those fragile veins winding under Nano’s tissuepaper skin. Shiki had never stooped so low as to take Line and now he definitely would never touch the stuff; he’d strike the addicts down with relish. 

It made sense now why Shiki had been defeated that night, why whole squads had been eliminated without chance of resistence: Nano was a living weapon. Shiki had already been haunted by the memory of that soldier that he’d been so certain wasn’t human, and now he knew why. Nano’s blood was what gave him that power and that ability to look into someone’s core. It was fake, as illusory as the man himself. That cursed blood. 

A new obsession burned with hatred burst in Shiki’s chest. 

Unconcerned with Shiki’s revelations, Nano simply set the suitcase down and started to turn away. Shiki snapped his gaze up to focus again on that retreating back. Nano moved so slow that he appeared to be floating, unable to touch anything, even the color and shadow of the night.

Just like when they first met.

After debating it, Shiki decided to let him go. He glanced down at the case and picked it up, regarding it with hate-narrowed eyes. What he wanted to do was crush the vials under his boot one by one and smear their contents across the cracked asphalt. What he actually ended up doing was look up and, seeing that Nano had vanished between blades of moonlight, turn away to bring the Line back to Vischio.

* * *

In the pass of the next few years, Shiki and Nano’s relationship had become twistedly symbiotic -- Shiki took the suitcase of Line supplied by Nano in order to spread it to Igura players, their drugged up bodies giving him some entertainment and satisfaction when he could cut down the Nicole Premier wannabes.  


In return, Nano could witness the fall of man firsthand. He could watch the desperate eyes well in fear, smile when bones crumpled and organs convulsed. He alone was the spectator to the toxic bleaching of man’s mind when it shattered to a thousand pieces.

It would be some time until Nano would admit with uncharacteristic loud laughter that he had been waiting to see such a fall in Shiki himself. 

The rain plastered his dull flaxen hair and clothes to his skin, and Shiki half-expected his form to bleed out onto the asphalt like pale chalk dust. Off to the side, Akira, Arbitro, and the Executioners stood to bear witness to the final clash that had been a long time coming.

The only reason Shiki had been  _ allowed  _ to live all this time was for Nano’s amusement. And like a wild beast being lured into a cage, Shiki fell for Nano’s bait again and again, pursuing him, chasing after him, cornering him in alleyways by cold white moonlight for the chance to finally tear him asunder. 

The most feared man in Igura, who killed without a breath or a blink, was being openly mocked by a mere ghost of a man.

“You’re a fool to the bone.” Nano’s lips appeared to move in slow motion. “You can’t beat me. You lose every time you fight me, and yet here you are again. Like a broken record.” His smile was cruel, somehow unnatural on his usually expressionless countenance. The size of its mirth threatened to tear his skin. “Why don’t you learn your lesson? You’ll never defeat me.  _ Ever _ .”

They were stark opposites of one another -- two extreme entities that clashed again and again. Shiki’s tensed muscles coiled tightly under the wrap of black leather, vivid crimson eyes glaring with the same deadly edge as his blade. 

Nano meanwhile stood in front of him, weighed down by the rain and pale and fragile, soon to vanish to the corner of Shiki’s eyes without a trace.

In all ways, mentally and physically -- Shiki was weak. Inferior. A ragged dog shaking in between the bloody alleys, just like the scum he struck down. 

The most infuriating thing to Shiki was not that he couldn’t simply shatter Nano’s being like a mirror, but that Shiki couldn’t even  _ instill  _ in him the same fear that had struck Shiki down and caged him for years. He couldn’t so much as break Nano’s mind, much less slice open his flesh to get to it. 

And what Shiki had sought greater than simply killing Nano...was splattering his pale image in his own red spill of tainted blood, as proof that he was nothing more than a  _ human _ , that color  _ could  _ stain him, that he wasn’t untouchable. 

Drenched from the dark downpour, Nano reached out his hand to Shiki. His eyes, his voice, every little gesture of his whispered out to Shiki. Somehow, all of it cut through the loud static of the rain.

“This blood of mine,” Nano said, “that you hate so much. My blood itself, which gives people a false illusion of new power, is the ultimate symbol of your weakness. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Nano was so pale that Shiki could make out the spidery reach of every vein under his skin. But what once was but a sickly network of blue and purple seemed to thrum red, taunting Shiki. Shiki could hear his own heart pound out of his chest. 

“Do you desire true power?” Nano asked. “Do you long to overcome me? Can you embrace your greatest weakness and master it? Just as I have.” 

It was just like Nano to be able to weave and thread his words as precisely as a god that handled the hate-red strings of fate. They bound Shiki as Nano put the impossible choice of accepting his blood in front of him.

**How Shiki detested that blood** . 

He wanted to see it for himself, and swallow it into the oblivion depths of his body. It was a dog-eat-dog world. So without hesitation, if it was for power, if it would at last allow Shiki to surpass Nano -- Shiki would consume him and prove that blood could not consume him in the same way it ate up the sanity of lesser men.

With a resounding clatter, Shiki dropped his sword and walked forward. Behind him, Akira shifted as if to call out to him, but in the end remained silent. Nothing would stop Shiki now, and Nano watched him with expectant eyes as he approached, Shiki’s breath coming out louder with each step.

In that final hour before civil war burst out, Shiki finally crushed his fear in between his jaws. 

Nano’s flesh  _ crunched  _ quite audibly under the brutal bite of his teeth, that tainted, monsterous blood blooming over everything in poison flowers -- skin and fabric and painting Shiki’s lips a glittering crimson.

Red. Red  _ human  _ blood. Nano was nothing special.

Shiki’s vision was bloodstained. His breath and eyes and heartbeat were wild as Nano’s essence spilled down his throat. 

  


P u l s a t i n g. 

S c r e a m i n g. 

  


As always, Nano appeared to feel no pain, even with Shiki’s teeth sunken into his flesh, even when black-gloved hands clutched at him, dipping him back to give Shiki more access to his neck as he slurped up drop after drop of blood. And in the middle of this wild display, Nano only smiled up at the heavens. 

“Let this blood of mine torture you. Torment you. And at last --  _ destroy you _ .” Nano uttered it like a curse, and Shiki was about to toss him to the ground when the first convulsions started. 

He broke free from Nano, clutching at himself, forced to double over as the contractions of his organs and his pounding muscles seized his body. Like millions of microscopic creatures with sharp jaws, the cells of Nano’s blood ate away inside Shiki’s body, tearing up his mind painfully seam by seam. He could feel it, the poisoning of his body, his sanity crumbling under the pressure of Nano’s binding, absolute DNA. 

There was too much pain to even find a thought to anything else. He howled, a dying dog falling into the cracks. 

This, he was sure, was  **Hell** . 

He moved on instinct when he picked up Akira’s scent -- when had his senses been so sharp? -- coming closer. Staggering, he shoved Akira back with a force he hadn’t possessed before. He felt for his sword in the blur of blinding pain, still making unholy sounds of wrath and agony. But Akira kept coming at him until he could reach out and clutch at Shiki’s mouth just long enough for his own blood to dye over Shiki’s tongue. 

Almost immediately his red vision darkened to black, his rattling thoughts coming to a slow silence -- and Shiki fell.

Snippets of Nano’s words prickled the tired threads of his mind: 

“ _ \--blood-- you hate-- weakness --  _

_ “Torment. Destroy _ .

“ _ Torment. Destroy. _

_ “Torment. Destroy.  _ **_Weak_ ** .”

* * *

On the other side of closed doors, in passing, they called Shiki “the Bloodless Man”. A man that trumped over all in this house of cards, a man with such influence and violent prowess that none could even raise a weapon against him, much less strike him down in a burst of red.  


Even back in the days of Igura, there had been doubts that Shiki was human. And now there was speculation that he didn’t even have blood to bleed.

Shiki was very aware of just how untrue that was. Every hour, every minute, he heard the woven, discordant pump of blood in his veins, rushing in his ears and swirling through his body -- the blood of two men that spilled their crimson essence onto Shiki’s tongue.

Whether or not he was human wasn’t debatable either. See, Shiki  _ knew  _ he was no longer human. He was a monster, a shadowy warp in the reality of this world, but a powerful one that none disobeyed. Shiki dictated the new reality from his position on top as Japan’s absolute conquerer. Such fearlessness was in his blood; he had overcome his weakness head-on.

At first, there was a battle of madness and control from both Nano and Akira’s blood in his veins. But Shiki had quickly adapted to living with this unique mix of blood in him, until he no longer struggled with it. It flowed as naturally through him as if it were his own. This was how he surpassed Nicole Premier. 

For Shiki, nothing could no longer stand in his way. The uphill battle to claiming his seat on high was one he relished. No matter who he had to kill, or how many he had to slaughter, Shiki did it all with a pleasured smile. One could say he was most himself out there on the battlefield, claiming life after life with his sword dance.

This lovely cacophony of Nicole and anti-Nicole blood was music to Shiki’s ears as much as the dying screams and slice of his crimson-soaked blade through countless bodies. The corpses piled up, but Shiki remained victorious atop the carnage -- the image reminiscent of the night he first met Nano.

But Shiki was no ghost. He was  _ alive _ . More alive than he could ever recall being in his entire life. Power exuded from his every movement. Absolution pierced from between his lips. As always, Shiki was Nano’s complete and utter opposite.

That was why their fates had been decided from the beginning.

* * *

Shiki’s ink-black shadow extended to all of Japan. It extinguished all light and snuffed out every ghost that could linger at the corners and alleyways. In this empire of shadow and the underworld has risen to the surface, Shiki ruled. Every so often though, he made a descent down below his “castle”, to the very bottom, into the secret chambers only he had clearance to enter -- even his right-hand Akira wasn’t allowed into this space.  


The guards -- all Nicole-users -- let Shiki pass down the dimly-lit corridor with sharp and precise salutes. Each of them wore an ink-black uniform similar to Shiki’s, soldiers crafted to Shiki’s design all the way down to their DNA. Living war machines, more beautiful than anyone of the old Nicole team could’ve dreamed of. And Shiki was, of course, the most perfect product of all. 

Now it was time to visit the defect. Shiki cleared through several DNA tests to identify him and allow him access beyond the thick, imposing steel door that finally unlocked for him in a series of bars and internal locks. It thudded closed behind Shiki as soon as he entered, the locks churning back into place. Even though Shiki was sealed in now in apparent darkness, he was not afraid.

Nothing could make him feel fear anymore. 

Like all of his other senses, Shiki’s sight was enhanced to such a degree that he could adapt instantly to the darkness and make out every form within the shadows. There were no windows down here, and the only other door was the one of black-painted steel that separated Shiki from the half-corpse in the sealed room. Shiki opened this gate as well and entered the enclosed cell.

Even in the darkness, the other creature sprawled on his thin bed seemed to faintly glow from the paleness of his sickly skin, the glitter of his eyes, the tangled spill of his light curls -- but only faintly so. The shadow clutched at his form, slowly deteriorating it. Shiki took in the sight with appreciative eyes, as if he were but a critic visiting his favorite piece of art -- and certainly this subject was still as a marble statue.

How utterly gorgeous Nicole Premier was, hallowed out and cracked and being swallowed by utter blackness.

Various tubes and needles were embedded under his naked skin, pumping him full of chemicals to keep him in that sluggish limbo between life and eternal sleep. But even drugged up, Nano looked as lifeless as ever. Nothing about him posed a threat, which was why he wasn’t shackled to the walls. The cell and heavily-guarded door was more to keep others from coming in than Nano coming out. 

Boots clacking on the hard stone floor, Shiki looked at one of the tubes and flicked at it in some sad semblance of announcing his arrival. Nano only continued to lay there, heavy-lidded eyes staring up at the high ceiling of his abyss. 

“How does it feel?” Shiki asked, voice black velvet. Looming overhead, he reached out to trace gloved fingertips over the line of Nano’s jaw. Once upon a time, Shiki couldn’t hope to catch Nano, who was like smoke in his hands -- now his bones could break and flesh could tear under his touch just like everything else Shiki so desired to possess and pin beneath him. Like a butterfly nailed to the wall.

“You, who so utterly detested being poked and prodded in that cold, tormenting lab, are trapped in the darkness once again. Tell me, Nano,” Shiki leaned in, breathing over Nano’s ear, “how does it feel to be imprisoned by the man you so condescendingly thought to be weak?” 

Nano remained deathly silent. It was uncertain if he was even breathing, but Shiki of course knew the expansion and compress of Nano’s lungs and the pump of his heart more than anyone else in the world, as if they shared organs on top of their blood. He knew Nano was listening, that he had no choice to. 

Never once had Nano asked why Shiki hadn’t allowed him to die that night, but Shiki had explained it anyway because he relished in how the tables had turned in their relationship. Nano had practically offered his life to Shiki’s feet, but Shiki wasn’t going to allow him death so easily -- not when it was what Nano wanted, not when there was so much that Shiki still had to prove. It used to be that Nano was the one pulling at Shiki’s strings, making him fall in a dance of his own design. But now everything was different.

Shiki took a seat on the bed, crossing his thighs, his uniform rustling. It was the only sound other than the low, monotonous beep of Nano’s heart and brain monitors. Shiki gazed down with a poison-sweet smile. 

“Aren’t you happy, Nano? You have front-row seats to the fall of humanity as you so wished. But what you’ll be seeing soon after is the rise of my empire. Well, we all have to die to be reborn -- isn’t that so?” His fingertips at Nano’s jaw skated up to his lips, pressing his thumb across the chapped skin. He dipped down again, all the way to Nano’s exposed neck -- right at the junction of neck and shoulder was the scarred silver tissue of where Shiki had bitten him. It was a perfect mark of Shiki’s jaws, and he loved looking at them as a mark of his ownership over Nano.

As he traced the jagged scars, Nano, without looking at him, finally spoke.

“You think I have come to you quietly. You are mistaken. You are still in the middle of your struggle with yourself.”

That Nano could still croak out such puzzling words in his position was laughable to Shiki, and he didn’t bother to hide that amusement. He laughed, a sound that bounced off the empty walls, and took off his military cap to hang over one of Nano’s IV bags.

“Unlike you, I know exactly who I am and what I can gain.” Shiki’s gaze roamed over Nano’s body. He was bare and vulnerable; there was no point in clothes if no one but Shiki was going to see him. Nano, of course, had no concept of shame and didn’t bother to so much as shift under Shiki’s intrusive stare. Shiki clicked his tongue, hand moving over Nano’s barely-concealed bones, squeezing his bruised hips. “You were such a wasted project. I am everything you failed to be and more. Best of all is that I made my destiny so much greater than you did -- you, who crumbled and cowered away. Because I never once hesitated, I have the world at the palm of my hand.” 

Nano finally gave him a glance. His eyes were still empty, but they no longer pierced Shiki’s mind. 

“What you have is transient.”

“What I hold is  _ absolute _ .” Shiki’s hand dipped between Nano’s butterfly hips and rubbed over the flaccid flesh there, digging his nail under the glove in warning. “ _ I am absolution itself _ .”

Nano didn’t wince. Even when he had returned to the bottom of his despair, he would not yield to the pain. But that was made him so fun for Shiki to keep around. He would teach his new dog many new tricks, and break him down as surely as his own military hounds. There was nothing in this world that Shiki couldn’t have kneel to him. 

As if he saw that arrogance in Shiki’s eyes, Nano said, “I have not come to you quietly. I will stay here at the bottom, if only to be able to watch your entire descent back to me when you fall.”

Shiki’s smile was wide and sadistic. “But I’m not a man anymore. Whatever your reality is is irrelevant.  _ I  _ am your everything now, got it?” He gripped Nano’s jaw tightly, and claimed his mouth fully, biting his lips and tongue, licking inside, forcing Nano to ingest him. It was a kiss of possession, void of passion, crushing and gave no room to even breathe. 

Nano didn’t respond to the push of Shiki’s tongue or the tug of his teeth. He took it all in, only reaching up to clutch at Shiki’s black hair without resistance. Shiki pulled back with a grin, licking up Nano’s taste as saliva and beads of blood glistened on those thin lips. Both of them stared down at the other with an intensity that ignited fire through Shiki’s veins, his blood singing in time with Nano's until the fleshy pulse of their heartbeats were one. Shiki lifted himself to the bed and straddled Nano’s hips, his black military pants stretching taut over his thighs. 

Shiki went against humanity and monsters alike. He was the most unnatural element in the world, and he would use this power to tear even God asunder. And every so often, Shiki descended down from his throne to remind Nano of that. 

Even if Nano didn’t understand now, he would in time. He too would become dyed that absolute shade of  _ black _ .

“Well, Nano,” Shiki grinned at the name, so plain and ordinary now, holding none of the same mysterious power as it once had, “how shall you entertain me tonight, I wonder...?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I will probably never write for Shiki  
> Also me: writes this fic while breathing heavily in anticipation
> 
> I told you once Kuma that you gave me a myriad of colors to write with. This fic highlights three: white, red, and black. I based the structure of the fic on the focus of those colors so hopefully those came out well. Sorry if it came out oversaturated, haha. TnC has my most favorite wording of the N+C games so I wanted to do it justice, even a little.
> 
> Happy birthday, my friend~ *insert a flood of bloody hearts*


End file.
